But now that I am fully immersed in the basketball season and the rigors of mostly single parenting on weekdays, I am trying to be intentional about everything. It is exhausting to be this intentional. Of course, the real battlefield is my mind, and I wage war against the temptation of intentionality morphing into perfectionism.
So the evening TV time for Bradie is many things. Also not my favorite thing, popping my kid down in front of the glowing babysitter, but it allows me to nurse the boy down while having some quiet time to gather my thoughts and simply let go of them. It also is a time to gear up for the bed time battle- which, on all cylindars, is more of a bed time ballet, lots of little intricate steps, but it gets done and is done peacefully instead of any gnashing and weeping and carrying on.
Tonight was different. Bradie is experiencing a little regression I like to call poop denial. She knows how to go in the potty but would rather not. And after a day and a half the poop doesn't really want to either. It seems to be comfy in her little nethers, growing more solid each passing hour and can't seem to the hear the whining and definitely cannot feel my nerves beginning to fray. So it sits and has every intention of becoming a diamond, I swear.
So I was not going to put this whiny, pathetic pile of a girl in front of the tube and feed her denial. Now she is aware of the rewards (ice cream AND a movie) but will not choose to go. Now Beau is ready for bed and I tell Bradie to play quietly in her room while I feed her brother, with a promise of story time to follow. No, she INSISTS on laying on my bed with me while I nurse Beau. I feel my blood pressure rise a bit. Fine, I resign through my teeth, but no talking.
And you know what happened? (if your still reading this sprawl of a post, thank you) After only a few little minor incidences, I look down at my daughter and she is breathing very rhythmically. She's asleep! A few minutes after that, she twitched even! Like really, seriously asleep!
The use of exclamation is appropriate here. The readers of this blog who have experienced the ballet/battle with Bradie know that this like never happens. Looking down at her sweet, relaxed expression I wanted to touch her face and absorb some of that repose... but that sort of thing is along the lines of "you break it, you buy it" so I didn't dare.
I laid Beau down and went back to collect Bradie, noting how different suggly baby feels compared to warm, almost sweaty, gangly preschooler. But she wakes and whispers something about a queen and then asks "what are you doing?"
I tell her I am putting her in bed. The princess rolls over, clutches her stinky blanket, finds her thumb and is silent. What a blessing.
I was going to post some pictures, but the card reader in the printer is being persnickety. Beau's 9 month check up (can you believe it!?) is tomorrow so I will try and post them then along with the pertinent information. Chuck is on in 15 minutes, I must go and prepare the taping device :)